


Please Stay

by pastaprince



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Gay, Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Multi, Other, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicide, Tragic Romance, mlm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 05:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastaprince/pseuds/pastaprince
Summary: Oliver has always been ill, ever since he was a child. The same bullshit illness that took his mother away when he was eight years old. His body didn’t work how it was supposed to. He was always weak, his immune system didn’t fight like it should. He could barely even stomach food most of the time. However, Oliver has always been smiling through it to his best ability, with the help of his best friend Michael. He has always been there for him through thick and then. He knew as long as he was there, everything would be okay.





	1. Tubes and Wires

**Author's Note:**

> !!Warning!!  
> This story contains suicide and selfharm!  
> Please be safe and read at your own discretion.

"Michael?"

Oliver sat up slightly when he heard the hospital door click open.

"No, I'm sorry dear. I'm just here to check on you." His nurse replied as she walked inside. She was average height and skinny and she had short curly brown hair and eyes of the same color to match. She was a very sweet woman, probably one of Oliver's favorite nurses there. 

"That's okay." He spoke quietly and held out his arm for her to check his blood pressure. He knew the daily routine of checking vitals since he had been stuck in this room for almost a month now. It was the longest he had been in for awhile. Usually he would be in and out just so the doctors could check up on him but this time was different.  
He was getting bad...and he knew that too, but he refused to lose hope. He was going to keep smiling through it no matter what his condition was.

Oliver was only seventeen and he'd been sick since he could remember. His mother had the same illness and she passed away when he was eight.  
It was really hard for him, especially now with being confined in the hospital room most of the time but he was learning to get through. He was just lucky he had-

He turned quickly towards the door again when he heard it open once more and he perked up. In walked a taller male with shoulder length messy raven colored hair and light blue, almost grey colored eyes. He was wearing a black t-shirt with some rock band logo on it and ripped blue jeans and he smiled softly when he saw Oliver.

"Michael! You're back!"

"Hey Oli, how are you feeling?"

"I'm great now that you're here!" He replied with a large smile.

"I'll be back later, Oliver. Stay in bed, okay?" The nurse advised.

"Yes ma'am." Oliver said with a nod as the nurse left the room, closing the door behind her.

Michael waited a few seconds after the woman left then looked at Oliver. His gaze fell to the other's wrists that were infested with a couple small tubes. He winced, feeling his own wrists ache at the sight. Michael shook his head of the feeling and sat down on the edge of the bed, locking eyes with Oliver. 

"Okay now seriously, how are you doing?"

"I already said I'm doing good, Michael. I was being honest. I'm fine."

"Is that the truth?"

"It is."

Michael observed Oliver's expressions with narrowed eyes before nodding.

"Okay then, sorry, I'm just nervous."

"You worry way to much, Michael."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. That's just how I am. When I care about someone I worry like crazy." He said, running his fingers through his own hair.

"Well, I'm fine. So you have no reason to wo-" his sentence was cut short as he bent over and covered his mouth with his hand, falling into a coughing fit.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of Oliver in pain. He wasn't stupid, he knew he was sick, but there was nothing that could be done.  
He just had to try his best to be there for him in his time of need. He reached over and rubbed Oliver's back gently to comfort him.  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Michael asked, concern laced in his voice.

Oliver nodded, taking in a deep breath before speaking again.  
"I'm fine.. I'm okay.. just a small cough. Nothing to worry about.."

Then, there it was again. That smile. The smile filled with strings of hope that Oliver was helplessly clinging to.  
He needed to cling, to keep himself going. If he slipped, if he let go, he wouldn't fight anymore.


	2. Nightmares

Oliver slowly opened his eyes, greeted by the white ceiling of his oh so familiar hospital room.   
His sight was blurred as he tried to look around and he heard a loud ringing in his ears. The thing that scared him the most was that when he tried to move...he couldn't.   
His body wouldn't budge. Not one bit. His breath picked up rapidly as his eyes darted around in fear. He then suddenly felt a sharp pain in his knee, like he was being stabbed, the blade ripping through his nerves and muscles.

Oliver cried out, opening his eyes quickly, his body jolting as he panted. He looked around quickly then sat up, now being able to.   
Everything was normal. Michael was there, sitting on the edge of his bed exactly where he was when Oliver dozed off to sleep.

Michael gave him a look of concern.

"Are you okay? Was it another nightmare?" He asked.

Oliver gave a silent nod. His breathing was hard as he tried to calm down. He often had nightmares when he tried to sleep, especially in hospitals. That's why Michael always tried to be there every night so he could comfort him if he needed it. Michael reached out to wrap his arms gently around Oliver and rub his back. "You're okay...I'm right here. I'll always be right here..."

"I don't wanna be here anymore..." Oliver cried out, his voice shaking with his body.  
"I wanna go home...I hate the hospital...I hate this stupid sickness..."

Michael felt his chest tighten, furrowing his brows and holding Oliver closer.  
"I know...I know, Oliver..."


	3. I knew I could do it!

"I don't know what you want me to do, okay?! I'm struggling with this just as much as you!"

"The hospital bill is getting higher and higher the longer he stays in there! We can't afford it!"

"It makes me sick that that's all you're worried about..."

Oliver's brother, Erik, and his father, David, argued pointlessly about this topic often and it only got worse the more he had to stay there. They use to be the picture perfect happy family until Sharon passed. She was the most elegantly beautiful person you could ever meet. She always knew how to make everyone smile, she could even get a smile out of Ebenezer Scrooge. She was a gem, but then...she was gone. The family fell apart after that. Then it got even worse when Oliver got sick. The family fell into debt in result of all the hospital costs and medicine for him. Nothing seemed to help. It was just like it was with Sharon. The same damned disease. It was unknown and didn't have a known cure either. Everything was tearing apart at the seams. No one knew what to do. There was nothing they could do.

 

"Oli, please don't do this again.. You know what happened the last time.."

"I can do it this time.. I know I can."

Michael watched with concern as his friend slowly stood up from the hospital bed, his legs trembling. He took a step but stumbled and fell into the wall. Michael stood up and walked over to him quickly, holding out a hand to the shorter male.

"Here."

Oliver looked at his hand then up at Michael with a smile as he took his hand in hisown, squeezing it tightly. He pushed himself off the wall and started to move slowly, one foot after the other. He laughed and looked up at Michael with big bright eyes.

"I'm doing it! I knew I could do it!"

Michael looked down at Oliver and thought to himself. He always wanted his eyes to look this way. He wanted his face to be lit up with joy every single day. He never wanted to see him dull... not like before. He tried to shake his head of the memory but it didn't work. He thought back to one day when Oliver was at school and he collapsed in the hallway, hitting his head really hard. He was stuck in the emergency room for almost two months and Michael didn't leave his side the whole time. Oliver didn't speak, he didn't move, the whole time he just laid in the bed staring at the ceiling with dull lifeless eyes. It was terrifying. He thought he had lost his best friend for good. Nothing frightened him more than that. It crossed his mind all the time and almost brought him to tears just imagining a life without him. His smile, his laugh, his eyes, the warmth of his hand. It was all amazing, Oliver was Michael's reason to live.

"I knew you could do it too."


	4. Help

Michael slipped outside while Oliver was resting and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and felt the slight burn in the back of his throat. He sighed, smoke leaving his lips and nose as he looked up at the sky. It was a bright orange color laced with pink as the sun began to rise. He leaned against the brick wall and closed his eyes. 

"Keep fighting, Oli... for me." He whispered to himself before taking another inhale. "You're all I've got left.."

\--

"Damnit Michael!"

A fist slammed into the male's face as he stumbled backwards. He held his nose and yelled out. His mother swung another punch, then another, then another, over and over. 

\--

Michael closed his eyes tighter before opening them and tossing his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. He walked back inside the hospital and into Oliver's room, walking in quietly just in case he was still asleep. He looked towards the bed and saw him laying there where he had left him. Something was wrong, Michael could immediately tell. Oliver wasn't moving at all. He felt his heart skip a beat as he rushed over and placed a hand on the other's chest to feel for a heart beat. His eyes widened. 

"Help-" He choked out. "Help!"  
"Oliver? Oliver?!" Michael cried out, quickly losing his calm structure.

"HELP!" he cried out again louder.

Three doctors rushed into the room, two ran to Oliver's bed side and the other ushered Michael out of the room as he struggled and fought against the man.

"No! Stop! Let me go! I have to stay by his side no matter what! Please!" Michael begged but was ignored as the doctor forced him out of the room, closing the door. Michael curled his hand into a fist and slammed it against the wooden door, yelling out in frustration. 

Half an hour passed and Michael was pacing back and forth, chewing on his lip so hard that he was almost sure he could taste blood. He turned quickly when the door finally opened. Two of the three doctors left and went down the hallway and the last one stopped in the doorway facing Michael.

"Please tell me he's okay..." Michael said quietly.

The doctor nodded. "He's stable now... but if I were you, I'd try to spend as much time with him as I could. He is getting much worse.. he may not have very long left... I'm sorry.." after saying those words, the doctor walked past Michael and down the long hallway.

Michael felt furious. How was he suppose to spend quality time with Oliver and make however many days he had left worth it when they couldn't even leave the hospital room? The small bland rooms that the doctors stuff their patients into until their final days.

Hours passed by and Michael was sitting on a small chair beside the bed. Oliver was asleep. He didn't move and his breathing was slow. A new accessory was added to his tubes, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Of course, Michael didn't mind since it was keeping his best friend breathing...well, barely breathing.   
Michael reached over and grabbed Oliver's hand, it didn't feel warm like before, this time the skin was cold like grasping onto an ice cube. The raven haired boy frowned and brushed his thumb over the top of Oliver's hand.

"You have to live...you have to, Oli. I'm not asking anymore... I'm telling you. I can't live without you okay? I can't... so please... just keep holding on. I need you...your brother needs you...your dad too... everything will be okay soon... you can't give up."

Keep breathing. Please.


	5. Goodbye

"Erik. Come downstairs for dinner okay?" David, Oliver's dad, called upstairs to his son.

After a minute of no answer he sighed and trudged upstairs. He stopped at Erik's bedroom door, there was a small sign on it that read, 'Keep Out'.

"Erik... listen. I know things have been really horrible with everything that's been going on.. but it will get better, okay? I know that sounds like a load of crap coming from me but I'm serious. It will be okay... I'll try to stop drinking... and Oliver will get better. I'll be better. It won't be like what happened with your mother. It won't." 

Silence.

"Erik?"

David grabbed the door knob and slowly opened up the door. His eyes widened at what he saw in front of him. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. He felt his heart stop.

Erik was hanging from the ceiling fan, swaying limply. There were a few empty pill bottles on the ground and some scattered pills as well. David stumbled and fell to his knees, averting his eyes from the horrible sight as sobs escaped his lips. He let himself fall completely onto his side and curl into himself, trembling. "Oh god...I'm s-o sorry..."

\--

Two more long and depressing days went by. Oliver had been informed of his brother's suicide and he was not handling it well. He wouldn't speak, not even to Michael. He felt like it was all his fault. He ended his life because him being sick made his life unbearable.

"I wish I could apologize.." Oliver finally spoke after days of silence. His voice was hushed.

Michael turned to look at him quickly. He was sitting in the bedside chair half asleep until now.  
"For what? Erik passing? Oliver...that isn't your fault and you know he wouldn't want you to apologize for something like that. He wouldn't want you to sit here beating yourself up about it either-"

"How do I NOT blame myself, Michael?!" 

There was silence for a couple seconds before Oliver sighed and held his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to raise my voice, okay? I'm just..." he felt tears flood his eyes. "I'm really overwhelmed.. I don't know what to do anymore..."

"Fight." Michael said simply. "That's all you can do. You have to fight." He sounded dead serious.

Oliver gave a small nod. "I will..." 

"Promise me."

"What..?"

"I said, promise me. Promise you'll keep fighting your best no matter what happens." 

Oliver looked down before nodding again. 

"I promise."


	6. Storm

It was really dark in Oliver's house. Thunder cracked and boomed outside as rain poured down harshly onto the rooftop.   
Oliver was asleep in his bed curled up in a ball under the covers as he snored softly.   
He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the wall as he blinked and sat up a bit. "A dream..?" He whispered to himself as he looked around at his familiar bedroom.   
There was no way that all was just one huge dream right? There was a knock at the door and Oliver turned his attention to it as it opened up with a quiet creak.   
In walked Erik. Oliver's eyes widened when he saw his little brother. "...Erik? Is that really you?"   
Erik sniffled and wiped at his cheeks with the back of his palm. "Can I sl-sleep with you, Oli? The storm is scaring me.."   
Oliver gave a small smile and nodded. "Of course.. c'mon.." he whispered, pulling his covers up to let Erik in.   
However, when his brother took a step towards the bed he suddenly disappeared into mid air.   
Oliver's eyes widened and he looked around.   
"Erik? Erik?!"

Oliver jolted up quickly, taking a sharp inhale of air. "ERIK!"   
Michael was quick to pull Oliver into his arms and shoosh him. A nightmare. He was still in the hospital.. his brother was still dead.   
He cried into Michael's shoulder and clung to him.   
Michael rubbed his back and sighed softly. "You're okay...don't worry...everything's going to be okay..."


End file.
